


Please Don't Take My Sunshine Away

by Hestia01



Category: The Dresden Files (TV)
Genre: Friendship/Love, Ghost love, M/M, hot for teacher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-09 09:24:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hestia01/pseuds/Hestia01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Dresden arrives at Morningway Estate as a young boy, and forges an unlikely friendship.  Originally posted on livejournal and ffn</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please Don't Take My Sunshine Away

 

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Dresden Files, I'm just picking up where the show left off. TV is temporary, fan fiction is forever!**

11 year old Harry Dresden looked up at the tall ghost of a man who is to be his teacher, feeling very nervous and frightened. After Justin left the two to get acquainted and get started, Hrothbert was eerily silent, regarding his new assignment. He was certain he wasn't going to like it. Neither of them knew quite how to begin.

“Very well, if I'm expected to help you hone your skills it seems as though one of us ought to do the speaking, and that person may as well be me,” the ghost observed, pacing the room. “Have a seat, we'll see what you already know.”

“Not much,” Harry admited, his ears turning pink, a sinking feeling developing in his stomach.

Hrothbert made a disgusted face, closing his eyes with a sneer. “Then we shall start at the beginning.”

Harry found a chair and sits, waiting to be dropped into this strange new world. He'd sufficiently had the rug pulled out from under him and he was willing to accept anything at this point. He fidgeted nervously, stammering, “Yes, Professor Hrothbert? Sir?”

The accused opened his eyes at this form of address. The boy actually sounded respectful. Still, he checked himself against showing emotion. To be spoken to like a human being was something he'd almost forgotten about. He pursed his lips, fiddling with the metal cuffs around his wrists, his bonds of servitude. He looked at the boy again, hoping that his master's heir may make a better master himself someday. Not if Justin had his way, of course. He'd soon find young Harry shaped into a veritable double of the man he dreaded.

“Perhaps, rather than grill you on what little you already know, you can show me what you can do,” he suggested, hoping to stall for time as he wrote up a passable lesson plan in his head. How Morningway expected him to be able to begin instructing the child upon arrival, he had no idea. Just a perk of being able to boss him around. He was bound to obey, even if it wasn't clear how to do it yet.

Harry seemed pleased with this order, and turned his eyes on a stack of books in the back of the room. Clutching his shield bracelet for luck, he floated the topmost book off the stack and across the room. For the sake of showing off a bit, he opened it in front of his new teacher and turned a page.

“Very good,” Hrothbert remarked, staring at the open book. It wasn't one he would have expressly chosen, but he'd been unable to actually read something in a conventional way for so long. Harry had no way of knowing what he'd just done, he certainly looked confused at his teacher's reaction. Usually his levitation tricks only ever made his father angry or upset.

“Now set it down. Can you do that without dropping it?”

Again, Harry's face contorted in concentration as he gently lowered the book onto a nearby table. He smiled up at the man, looking quite pleased with himself.

For a moment, the old ghost's permanent scowl disappears, it almost looks like he's smiling back. “Very good, Master Dresden,” he repeats. “You'll be able to do more than that when I'm through with you.”

The way the boy was looking at him unsettled him. Could it be that his were the first kind words he'd heard since his father's death? Oh, he's certain that Justin would have done everything he could to lure the boy in, but kindness was not in his vocabulary. He can appear generous, even agreeable at times, but kindness...was impossible to fake.

“Thank you, sir. I can't wait!”

Then he could tell for sure, it wasn't just a twitch or a trick of the light, the ghost actually smiled at him, wholly approving his enthusiasm for his new direction in life. By now, Hrothbert had had sufficient time to find a good starting-off point, the where and how to begin solved in those moments he'd bought.

For four hours every day, Harry was to be holed up in the classroom, learning magic. In his first lesson he learned of his impressive family lineage, what it meant to live up to it, what was expected of him: all were required materials from his uncle. But additionally, he learned the importance of patience, focus, control. He was taught he must ignore his bloodlust and desire for revenge, neither of which are completely quelled but the way his schoolmaster talked about it, he knows it's important to bury down if he wanted to be a decent wizard.

 

That night, Harry couldn't sleep. He kept having nightmares about his father. About the day he died, only worse. So much worse. He got out of bed and went out into the hall. His uncle's room was a few doors down, but he didn't feel right going to him with his bad dreams. Impressive of a man as he was, something didn't feel right. Instead, Harry scurried barefoot through the mansion to the classroom, where he picked up the skull from its resting place and curled up against it on the floor. He liked his teacher already, surly demeanor notwithstanding. Somehow this felt safer.

“You'll catch cold if you do that,” a strangely gentle voice told him.

Harry's eyes opened wide, he'd just been dozing off and was now awake again! He stared into the glittering green eyes of his new mentor, fearful of his displeasure.

“Sorry, sir. I didn't hurt it. I just wanted...I...I had a bad dream, I couldn't get back to sleep,” Harry spluttered nervously.

Hrothbert stared at the skull in the boy's hands. How he held it to his chest like a teddy bear. “Just be careful with it,” he says. “Put it back.”

For a second, it looked like the boy didn't want to. He clutched it tighter, bringing his face down to it. The gesture nearly melted the dead man's heart. This poor, frightened orphan chose to come to him for comfort, for safety from his troubled dreams. Then Harry did as he was told, putting it back where he found it, sniffling a little.

“I'm sorry, sir. That probably looked weird.”

“No one has ever done that before,” the ghost admited. He knew then what he must do. He must protect the boy in any way he can. If Harry has chosen him to be his rock and guide, then he would do his damnedest to live up to it. He only hoped that he may be worthy of such an honor.

“When I had bad dreams before, I'd get into bed with my dad. He made me feel safer, so I could sleep,” Harry admitted. Mentioning his father looked painful, he was in danger of giving way to tears.

“You must miss him,” Hrothbert said, feeling uncharacteristically sympathetic. What innocent child deserved not only to have his parents taken from him but to come to live in this awful, god-forsaken place? The boy didn't realize it yet, but the latter part simply added insult to injury in Hrothbert's opinion.

Harry nodded, reaching for the skull again and then drawing his hand back guiltily. That was all the ghost can stand. For that second, he completely forgot his curse and knelt before the boy, holding his arms out to hug him. Harry eagerly sprang forward, and cold disappointment hit them both as he passed through the man. Disgusted with himself, Hrothbert righted himself, looking at the boy shuddering on the floor.

“I'm sorry, Master Dresden. I...forgot. I...I just wanted...I forgot.” How badly he wanted to press the boy into his body, to hold him fast, to feel his warm cheeks against his. Just to comfort him, to reassure him that everything would be okay. Hrothbert snarled in self-loathing, clapping a hand over his mouth.

Harry was unhurt, and recovering from the shock. He stood, hoisting himself up by the tabletop. He gave his teacher a sad look, seeming to understand the man's disappointment, and as a form of consolation he nuzzled his forehead against the skull.

“Stop it, stop it,” Hrothbert commanded, unaccustomed to such things. In his hellish after-life, he'd never endured such treatment. “Please,” he added, almost pitifully. The action tugged at his nonexistent heart and his breath came in strange gulps. “You'd...you'd better get off to bed, Master Dresden. You shouldn't be wandering around this drafty old place with bare feet, you'll catch your death.”

Strangely, this made Harry laugh. A ghost warning him against catching his death. It took Hrothbert a second to realize that he'd made a joke, then he gave him a rare, tight smile himself. He'd had precious little reason to smile since his death and prolonged cursed state, and this boy had made him do it three times already. Hrothbert was surprised that he even remembered how to do it. How it lightened his heart, even temporarily! This boy is truly a blessing in his gilded cage.

“Go on. Your mother's shields will protect you from anything lurking in your dreams. Good night.”

“Good night, Professor.”

 

A few weeks passed, and Harry was getting on well enough in both his lessons and in his adjustment to his new home. He and his uncle rarely spoke, except for regular reports of his training. He never asked after the child's personal well-being, never asked if he was happy here, or seemed to care that he was grieving for his father under the strangest of circumstances. Then, one day, he entered the classroom mid-lecture.

“Harry, I'm going to be out of town for the next week or so. Business. Don't let him burn down the house,” he added to the ghost before ducking out again.

“Does he do that a lot?”

_Not nearly often enough,_ Hrothbert thought, unable to say it. He'd been expressly forbidden from being too free with his opinions. “Your uncle is an important man,” was all he could say before launching back into the lecture.

At the end of it, Harry ran down to the kitchen to raid the pantry. The housekeeper looked on with an indulging smile. She'd made extra preparations for Morningway's time away from home and was glad to give the boy what treats she can. As his takings mounted higher on the counter, she tapped him on the shoulder and hands him a large wicker basket to haul his booty in. Filled with cookies, apples, pies and cupcakes, it nearly weighed more than he can carry. He shoved in a whole quart bottle of chocolate milk and trotted back upstairs to the classroom. The housekeeper watched after him, making a mental note to tidy up after the child's indoor picnic.

He grabbed some books he'd been given as required reading materials, set up his feast in a wide semicircle around him and lay on the floor on his stomach, legs kicking the air contentedly.

“Quite a spread you've managed to get your sticky little hands on, Master Dresden,” Hrothbert observed with the shadow of a grin. He was pleased to see the boy has such interest in his studies that he'll even pursue it in his spare time. “Take care not to smear the pages.”

“You know, you can stop calling me that. It makes me feel really weird. You can just call me Harry if you want.”

“Very well, Harry,” he says, wincing slightly as the boy scattered crumbs over the old grimoire. “It's good to see you taking your lessons so seriously.”

“Are you kidding? This stuff is so cool! Man, if my dad knew any of this...” he trailed off as a cold, empty feeling settled inside him. He scrunched his face up against the horrible feelings he's still coping with.

“Harry, as a bit of an expert on the subject of death, may I offer some advice?”

“Sure,” Harry mumbled into his sleeve, determined not to start crying again.

“It's normal to feel this way after losing someone close to you, it's healthy. If you bury your pain, it will only be worse when you finally let yourself experience it. Mourn him properly, then the healing can start,” the ghost sagely advises, wishing once again with all his heart that he could take the boy into his arms. It seems to be an ironic twist to the curse, that he's still able to experience affection but be unable to act upon it the impulses it brings. “You'll hurt for some time, I'm sure, a father is someone you cannot ever replace, but the pain will lessen day by day. Find a way to remember him, think how happy he might be to be reunited with your mother.”

Harry sniffled, wiping his eyes with a vengeance. “It helps to come up here,” he admitted. “When I'm with you I don't miss him so bad. I think...I think he'd be glad to know I'm here and that...that I'm not all alone. That I've got you...sir.”

Again, the young wizard's words twisted their way into Hrothbert's heart. He had no idea the boy had grown so attached to him this quickly, and was glad that they had several days together without fear of interruption by Justin. Now he wished he had another name to give him, to offer in return for Harry's allowed familiarity. He'd never had a friend in his life, never had a reason to give or receive affectionate nicknames with his fellows. Then, as though guessing the old ghost's thoughts, Harry asked shyly--

“Hey, can I call you Bob for short? Your name's kinda hard.”

With a leaping heart, Hrothbert, newly christened Bob, smiled with a gasp that may have been a laugh. “Yes, my boy, you may.”

The two lonely, maladjusted souls gazed at each other, grateful for their newfound friendship.

For the whole time Justin was away, things continued like this. Far from bemoaning the powerful man's absence, Harry and Bob rejoiced and thrived in it. Painful as it was to not be able to touch, Bob was happier than he had been in centuries. They continued their lessons, which, despite their newly forged friendship Bob was as strict and demanding as ever. In their downtime, however, they read together, share recollections, even laugh together. The dreaded Hrothbert of Bainbridge, feared necromancer, laughing with an eleven year old child over a story older than the hills. Harry had begun taking the skull back to his room to sleep, he claimed he felt safer knowing Bob was near.

“Your uncle will be coming home tomorrow afternoon. Remember to put my skull back where you found it. He certainly wouldn't approve,” Bob warned as the boy climbs into bed.

“Sure thing, thanks for letting me though.”

Harry was asleep almost as soon as he hits the pillow, and Bob stood over him, miming that he's petting him. He found himself singing--

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,

you make me happy when skies are gray.

You'll never know, dear, how much I love you.

Please don't take my sunshine away.”

 

The next thing he knew he was being summoned by a horribly familiar voice. Obediently, he appeared before Justin Morningway, and saw he had Harry with him, holding him by the arm.

“Harry, it's time for another lesson,” Justin spat at him. “I realize you weren't raised to know any better, but in this house, we do _not_ become friendly with the servants, nor do we allow them to take liberties with us. Do you understand? Especially him. You give Hrothbert an inch and he'll take a mile.”

Harry squirmed in fright, nods helplessly.

Justin tapped his staff decidedly, pointing one end at his nephew. “I'm sorry, Harry. This hurts me more than it hurts you, but I must. Unless I wish to let you carouse with your new _friend_ every time my back is turned...this whole charming affair never _happened!_ ” With that, he shot a red bolt of energy at the boy. Harry raised his arm to deflect the blow and was sent sprawling in his uncle's wake. Then, as the cherry on top, Justin lifted the boy up and addressed Bob.

“Hrothbert, you fiend, what did you do to him?!”

Harry stood, shaking his head. His ears were still ringing from the spell. He looked at Bob curiously, wondering how his uncle was trying to blame him for what he'd just done. Then he realized...his bracelet had saved him from the curse! Justin had intended to wipe his memory, his friendship with his teacher. He'd have to think fast.

“Yeah, Hrothbert, what did you do?!” he cries, looking convincingly afraid of him once again.

Bob stood there helplessly, unable to protest or defend himself. “I...I...” no more words came, he silently despaired the reversion to how things had been. He doesn't even know if he had the courage to start things up with Harry again, especially if this is how they were rewarded. _Doomed, doomed to be alone all my days. No kind words for me, no one to help. Just a sullen, ill-tempered boy who's scared to death of me._ His face twisted into a snarl, feeling like a wild animal whose young has been threatened. Knowing himself to be powerless, it was a pitiful gesture at best. It only showed his master his pain, betraying his weakness.

With a grim smile, Justin flings the boy into a chair. “Harry,” he purrs smoothly, “so good to see you after my long business trip. I trust you've been keeping up with your training?”

“Yeah,” Harry grumbled, glaring at his teacher. “It's been all right. Professor Hrothbert is tough on me, though.”

“Well, we do what we can.” Giving his bound servant a sarcastic smile, Justin strode from the room, shutting the door behind him. The two were quiet for a moment.

“Master Dresden, I--”

But the boy raised a finger to his lips, leaning back to listen to his uncle's retreating footsteps. He heard another door slam, then brightened, jumping up out of his seat with a smile. “Wow, Bob, I think I even fooled you!”

Astonishment didn't begin to describe the look on Bob's face. Once again, he wished he could hug him. He really must find a way to control this impulse. “Harry? You're...quite all right?”

“Quite,” Harry repeated proudly, holding up his bracelet. “He doesn't want us being friends for some reason, I don't know why.”

“So it seems,” Bob agreed drolly.

“If we want to be friends, we have to be sly, like him.”

Bob smiled, relieved his one friend in the world is still here, still his! “Yes, I believe you're right.”

 

 

After living in Morningway Estate for a year now, Harry's uncle decided to sit him down and give him “the talk.” When he's finished, Justin marched out, pleased that he'd done his duty, and could move on to other things for the day, leaving Harry with his teacher for the time being.

“Hi, Bob,” he greets his teacher. Harry had certainly grown in the last year, and showed no sign of stopping yet. He wasn't even thirteen yet but already looked closer to sixteen. “C-can I talk to you about something before we start?”

“Certainly,” he allowed. “Is it academic or is it personal?”

“Personal,” the growing boy mumbles shyly, looking ashamed of something.

“Oh dear. Might you have something on your conscience?”

Harry twisted in his seat, “Kind of.” He heaved a sigh and looked straight at the floor. “Uncle Justin told me about...what happens when kids grow up.”

Bob's lip curled at this, “Oh dear. I don't imagine that conversation's gotten any better since I heard it.”

With a nervous giggle, Harry shook his head, his face spreading into a wide, manic grin. He knew he could tell Bob anything. “He told me that boys start noticing girls and thinking about them about this time. Like kissing and stuff.”

“Well, yes, that does tend to happen, in the best of circumstances,” Bob said, wondering what's troubling the lad.

“Wh-what if I don't think I'm gonna notice girls?”

Taking up a paternal air, the ghost strolled past the boy's desk, “Oh, you might not think about them right now, but someday--”

“What if I think about boys? A...a man?” Harry blurted out before he lost his nerve.

“Oh.” Bob paused, then looked unconcerned. “I see nothing wrong with that, although your uncle probably will. Best not to bring it up. If he was upset about us more than tolerating each other...do you, ah, get my drift?” he asked, sounding uncomfortable with employing slang but trying to sound current.

Harry chuckled at his teacher's vernacular, he made it sound like a foreign language, but he washonestly trying. “Yeah, I get your drift.”

Bob grinned toothily, pleased he'd carried off the turn of phrase so well. He'd been unaccustomed to speaking with any familiarity for so long, it was always pleasantly refreshing to have someone who treated him like a person. His fondness for the boy in their first days together had taken root and blossomed beautifully in the last year. “As I was saying, I see nothing wrong in noticing a fine, strapping lad when you might,” his gaze wandered as did his mind, as though drifting into a fond memory of just such a specimen. He caught himself with a light shake and continued. “Is there someone in particular?”

Blushing deeply, Harry fidgeted, being deliberately vague. “Yeah, actually. Someone...someone I met through my uncle, actually.”

“He must be of fine stock, your uncle doesn't mix with...lesser sorts.”

Harry shruged, “Maybe, I dunno. But he's really smart, he knows just about everything. And he's nice and he's funny and really...” he couldn't find words enough to describe him. “I think he's beautiful. I feel all funny around him.”

Bob's expression faded to a blank slate, amused to see the young man in love, but rather sad that he was slipping away. Still, he tried to keep up the rake act for now, keep things manly. “What's your favorite part of him?”

“He's got really nice eyes, and a great smile. He doesn't like to show all his teeth, cuz they're kind of crooked, but I think they're cute.”

Unknowingly granting the boy's desire, Bob couldn't help but smile at the lovesick wizard. He tried hard to make his peace with Harry's latest development. _What were you expecting? You're far too old for him even to consider you, you're lucky he treats you like a human being with feelings. No one's done that in years. He's only a child. This isn't the 10_ _th_ _century anymore, a master sorcerer isn't allowed to play hide-the-wand with his apprentice!_

“Bob? Have you ever been in love?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes, quite a few times, actually.”

Harry scooted forward eagerly. “Have you ever loved someone who didn't love you back?”

Bob nodded glumly, “Quite a few times,” he repeated. “It's something we all must endure, however.”

Harry frowned in empathy. “I'm sorry. They can't have been too smart, I think you're great. You're my best friend.”

Those sweet, simple words nestled in the poor dead man's heart and stayed there, warming him. “And you are mine, my boy. I never thought I'd...have that...with anyone.”

“I don't even mind that you're dead!” Harry assured him.

“I don't even remember that I'm dead half the time. Not with you.” His poor mangled heart twinged at this, his illusion of a body ached to be pressed against someone warm and living, preferably Harry. _My dear boy._ Then, they heard footsteps, quickly Bob scribbled out a glimmering gold formula in the air, Harry bent over his desk, hastily writing notes. Just as they're convincingly at work, Justin peeked in.

 “...and that, Master Dresden, is how the islanders vanquished Bogaten, and they were spared from giant squid attacks from then onwards. You will be required to write a three page essay on the incident and hand it in tomorrow...”

“Yes, Professor Hrothbert,” Harry acquiesced, barely able to keep from sniggering at their play. His uncle left, satisfied. As soon as he was gone, Harry grinned up at him. “Bogaten, squid attacks?”

“I wasn't kidding about the essay,” the ghost drawled coolly, making Harry slap himself in the face.

 

2007

Harry was taking advantage of a slow business day to clean up the shop. Bob watched thoughtfully.

“Harry? I was just thinking back to when you were younger.”

“God, Bob, spare me the memory lane crap.”

“I was just curious about something, if you could remember.”

Harry looked up from poking a broomstick under the sink, looking appalled at what he'd managed to unearth. “Yech. So that's what that smell was.” He nudged the mysterious pile of refuse into a plastic bag and tossed it in the trash. “What'd you want to know?”

“That day your uncle gave you the old birds and the bees lecture...you'd mentioned there was someone of whom you'd already grown fond. A boy, or a man, as you described him.”

Blushing, feeling as though he were being filled with hot water, Harry stammered. “Uh, yeah?”

“You'd said he had been introduced through your uncle. I was just curious who it was.”

Harry flinched with a false laugh. “You expect me to remember--”

“Everyone remembered their first love. It's been twenty years for you, it's been nine hundred eighty-five years for me. I remember it like it was yesterday.” Bob peered down with an annoyed pout. “Dresden, are you even going to look at me when I'm speaking to you?”

Clear as a bell, Harry rememberd the exact words he'd used to describe his first love. Right down to how he openly admired his teeth! “Bob, please, don't ask me this. You don't want to know.”

“Simple question,” Bob monotoned. “You remember, though, don't you?”

“Yeah. Someone really smart, funny, nice, and devilishly handsome. Nice eyes, great smile...” Harry looked his former teacher in the eye with a confessing smile. “Sound like anyone you know?”

Bob's face dropped in amazement. “You...you...”

Harry grinned at his old friend's reaction. “You, you.”

The ghost gaspped sharply. “You mean to tell me you were in love with me--”

“Since I was eleven,” Harry admitted.

“ _Since?_ ” Bob demanded, this is too much. “Since?! You...”

Suddenly shy about it, Harry scuffed his toe on the floor through another pile of sludge, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, there's no accounting for taste. But yeah. You...you're all I had. All I ever had. You were sweet to me, I was a goner. Just, spare me the abuse, just this once. Please?”

Bob wrung his hands nervously, brushing against the cool metal that bound him. “Oh, Harry,” he purred with delight. He'd been forbidden to speak of such things, but now that he's onto a new master, it might not hold anymore. Still, the fear of what could happen if he tried had kept him from speaking for all these years. He held his arms out wide, then closed them around himself. He glided directly before Harry, gushing “Oh, how I've loved you! Always, since that night I first found you sleeping with my skull. I promised myself then that I'd do what I could to take care of you. I didn't do very well, I know, but given the circumstances...”

“Really?” Harry gasped, “We've..we've loved each other all this time, and...”

“You were too young, then. Far too young. It wouldn't have been appropriate. But you grew wonderfully.” Then, the full meaning of Harry's young description came to mind. “You...like my smile? My teeth?”

Harry blushed, “Yeah, that gets me every time.”

“Gets you?”

“That...awesome floating feeling,” he gestured around his stomach and chest. “And that thing you do with your mouth when you're pissed off.”

Unconsciously, Bob made that exact face, making Harry grin with pleasure. Through a frustrated pout, Bob insisted, “I don't do a 'thing with my mouth' when I'm...I'm doing it now, aren't I?” He didn't even need to ask as Harry openly licks his lips at him, looking very turned on. Strangely enough, for a man who'd always been self-aware of how strikingly handsome he was, Bob was amazed at his effect on his master. They must both have become much more sly than either had intended all those years ago.

Bob groaned aloud, thrusting his head towards his love, wanting to press his cheek to him. He repeated the gesture, always stopping short of going through the wizard. “Oh, it's not fair,” he cursed quietly. “My love, my own.”

Harry, too, felt frustrated even more now. He mimed kissing the man before him, as Bob mimicked him obediently. Their lips were less than a centimeter away, opening and closing together in the air, painfully. “God, Bob...” he brings his hand near his cheek, so close to nuzzling in to devour his beloved, a breath and a world away.

“We...we must endure it,” the cranky old ghost told him. “It's something I've done for some time. You can, too.”

“Must...must...!” Harry breathed, reaching fruitlessly for him.

Bob shook his head, stepping away, passing a hand through his face. “Stop it! Stop it before you hurt yourself!”

Then, as a consolation, Harry picked up the skull and presses it to his cheek, cuddling it tenderly. He nuzzled what had been Bob's forehead with a sigh, “Why's it so hard all of a sudden? We've been...like this the whole time? What's changed? Why...can't I stand the idea of not...” he trailed off, curling his fingers and drawing them near his ghost's cheek.

With an identical helpless moan, Bob sighed, “Knowing we both want it, that's what makes it hard. It's easy to suffer in silence if you think no one cares, but this...Matters of the heart are horribly complicated. There's nothing we can do. Just know that I love you with all my heart.”

Harry wasn't taking it any better, he stood as close to his friend as he can, practically on top of him, wishing he could reach out without passing through him. “Just once, just for a minute...”

Bob smiled grimly at that notion, he'd entertained it enough himself. “Oh, you know even if you miraculously got your minute, it wouldn't be nearly enough. You'd be begging for another and another, an hour, a day, a week, a year. What would be enough, if you knew that that was it?”

Nodding sadly, Harry had to agree with the older man. He'd certainly had a longer time to think about this than he did. “I just want to so bad. I love you so much. You've always been there, always.”

“I hope I will continue to be,” Bob said, finally stopping torturing himself. His eyes were clear and free of pain, he simply gazed comfortably at the man before him. Softly, he sang,

“Please don't take my sunshine away.”

 


End file.
